


Celebrating Us

by Swetz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Older Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22974976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swetz/pseuds/Swetz
Summary: An extended scene from my already published  fic "Always Remember Us This Way".Arya reminisces while watching her daughter dance with her new son-in-law.For Gendrya Week 2020 day 1: Celebration
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 19
Kudos: 59





	Celebrating Us

Day 1: Celebration

“It's not everyday that your daughter gets married, Milord. Cheer up.”

But her dear husband, the father of the bride, just pouted in response. She found it adorable.

“Still can't believe she chose one of your Uncle Edmure's though,” he responded, his eyes on the young Brynden Tully, who in turn, was busy gazing at their daughter. Arya had to admit that the young couple looked just a little dazed, and very much in love. 

Ah, young love. Her daughter, the heir of the Stormlands, had found it in the Riverlands.

Just like she had with Gendry, even if she didn't know what it meant at that time.

When they attended young Hoster's wedding, Argella was but a girl of one and two, racing through the woods with Brynden, learning to swim and catch fish from him, and her aunt Roslin made knowing eyes at Arya. Five years later, the boy had transformed into a handsome knight known for winning tourneys and distributing the prize money to the people, and her daughter had been crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by the redhead, not once, but twice.

When she watched her daughter pulling her new husband into the hall for a dance, she felt a twinge she hadn't felt in years. 

The twinge of jealousy. 

The twinge that resonated through her younger years, when she used to believe that she wasn't as pretty as Sansa, or as loved as Bran. But she had been forced to bury those feelings years ago at Braavos, and they never returned to her, aided by Gendry's unwavering love and his pride over her accomplishments, and her own newfound appreciation of what it was to be a woman, to be human; to be herself and to love herself.

And put simply, to love.

He made her feel beautiful. He made her feel wanted. But above all, it was her experiences that made her realise that beauty was only skin deep, and it was the happiness when she was with her love, her Bull, that made her shine from within.

But those twinges of jealousy were chiming somewhere within her today, and she felt ashamed.

Was it a sin to be envious of one's own daughter? 

When she watched her beautiful girl step on her new husband's foot, and heard the bashful laughter which followed, it reminded her of her own whirlwind wedding. When she watched Brynden planting a kiss on Argella's head as they swayed to the slow music, she started wondering about the wedding feast she and Gendry never had, the wedding feast that they would never have. When she spotted Gendry frowning at his new son-in-law's attempts to dance, it was as if sadness had stabbed her from the back. 

She barely remembered her own father's face. 

Determined not to let her wandering thoughts sour her mood on such a momentous occasion, she sought the comfort that her Bull provided, discreetly pushing her chair closer to his, and laying her head on his strong shoulder. 

Her husband had kept her grounded all these years, afterall.

Her mind could fly, at times. Fly too high, too far away, and she could lose herself, only to return to the earth as just ashes, a burnt husk of herself, eerily similar to the rain of ashes at King's Landing which reminded her of her place, of Arya Stark. But Gendry's arms around her every morning reminded her of love and family and pack. 

She couldn't let her unhappy memories dictate her present. She would replace them with happy memories, and twice over with happier memories. 

She stood, pulling Gendry from his seat. It was time to dance. To celebrate their life.

He looked slightly bewildered, but managed to hide it quickly enough. He had been putting on a show for a long time now. Gendry had finally learned the ways of Lording. Not all the ways, but some ways.

As they slowly began to sway to the music, and Gendry's hands on her back, on her waist warmed her up, she rested her head on his beating heart. It was reassuring, the steady thudding.  
The steady beats from the heart of the steady, sturdy rock of her life.

Everything about her Bull was steady.

Except his dancing.

Because his missteps sent her stumbling straight into his chest, face first. Her husband looked down at her sheepishly, but made no effort to loosen his embrace, as he held her close.   
“Sorry.”

“Pftt, it wouldn't be normal if I didn't lose balance atleast once when dancing with you.”

“I try my best! I never made you stumble when you were with child, ever!”

Dancing with him when she was with child was hilarious. She couldn't remember him being more terrified. Even when she sparred with her pregnant belly, he wasn't so scared. 

She smiled to herself thinking of her pregnancies. Four times she carried his child, and she would cherish those memories. Especially her last pregnancy, where they made love more than ever before. Not even as newlyweds did they fuck as much as they did when she carried Shireen. It had only gotten better with age. 

Memories of their sexcapades prompted her to lean closer to her husband's ear. Maybe an escape plan could be made? 

But no, her husband was distracted. Gendry was glaring at their older son, Rickard, who was seated on a corner table, and surrounded by pretty maidens. Her son was no more than one and five, but was already more charming than both his parents combined. If those girls were vying for a place in his bed, they wouldn't find it. She was sure most of them planned to marry him only for power, to poison Rickard's mind, to convince him to overthrow Argella and become the Lord of the Stormlands himself. However, Gendry's plan was to send their boy to King's Landing, hoping that one day he would be one of the Kingsguards. 

“I don't like this.”  
Gendry almost always gave their children the freedom they deserved, but she could see that this was bothering him.

“I don't know what we did wrong while raising him, but I don't like this. I- I don't know, we need to stop this boy before he turns into another Robert. I saw him flirting with the steward's daughter the other day. This won't do, it's not right.”

Gendry had the habit of worrying about their children, maybe a tad bit too much. She tried to reassure him,  
“I'll take care of him. He's still a boy. A good talking to, and maybe a few trips around the land will humble him enough. Oh, and he's scared of Argella. He'd never do anything she wouldn't approve of, trust me.”

Her daughter could be downright scary when she wanted to, and Arya had always been proud of her for that. She was kind but firm, and the Stormlands would prosper under her.

“Arya, we can't send Rickard to King's Landing. He needs to stay here. Someone needs to show him his place.”

The boy in question was now flirting with a girl from a lower house, and Arya understood Gendry's concerns. She however, had different plans.

“Yes, of course. I'll take care of him, don't worry.”

She bit her lip, knowing that he might not like what she had to say.  
“Bran wrote to me.” 

“And?”

“He wants me to send Ned instead.”

Gendry's face fell.   
Ned was their little boy of one and ten, always trailing behind his father in the forge, making wooden toys for his younger sister Shireen, helping Arya with the sums. He was excitedly chatting with the hedge knights in the hall, and admiring their longswords.

He took a large swig from his mug of ale,   
“Lets go to bed before I lose my mind, wife.”

Wife. She was his wife, and they were a family, her girls and boys and him. Against all the odds they faced in life, they had found their happiness. She leaned against his shoulder, feeling slightly happy-drunk, and they walked out of the hall, oblivious to the teasing hoots from the crowd.

But not before she clobbered Ricky on the head.


End file.
